Plugging in the mixer, I
“Mix ’til small peaks appear”
Searching for images of us in those hills
and valleys, I can hear
An indigo haze
Over my memories not so near.
The future is written in that bowl
Sugar-cream topographies of the soul.
But the frosting has to wait
While we conjure up the rest
Patience is a virtue
And she’s putting us to the test.
There’s a rhythm to the madness now
Bouncing from cupboard
I’m a jazz percussionist in the kitchen
I find meditation
In the mess —
Feel my eagerness
As it ricochets
Off the walls
Of the chambers
Of your chest.
Ding! The batter’s rising —
I can’t tell if it’s time…
You distract me with your grin —
It’s your favorite little crime.
Your glutinous charm is a hazard,
It’s a sweetness that hugs the hips.
I’ve never seen a lifetime stuffed
Into such tiny,
The suspense is searing,
My heart rate is far from leveled
We need to hurry up and wait —
But we are one, and we are disheveled…
Wait, we did it! I say to myself proudly.
But I touch the too-tender center of our masterpiece
Realizing I shouldn’t have said that
If we only had a minute longer
To see it all play out
We would have found
What all this frenzy
Was really all about.
you might be the only one,
who understands the flurry of fun
that comes with a kind of loving
That is simply